


some things (you) might be good (for me)

by fiddleogold_againstyoursoul



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-27 01:57:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6265132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiddleogold_againstyoursoul/pseuds/fiddleogold_againstyoursoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam gets a job as a substitute teacher. Dean starts going to the library a lot more often after meeting blue-eyed, deep-voiced librarian Castiel Shurley. Adam knows he's screwed when he catches his new boss Michael's eye for too long.</p><p>AU where the Winchesters fall hopelessly head over heels for the Shurley family. Also known as the fic in which Bobby Singer tries not to laugh and cry at the entanglement of the Winchester brothers' love and work lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was Winchester Breakfast Bonding Time, also known as the most awkward joint meal of the day because none of the them were ever awake enough to engage in proper conversation, Adam was always putting his elbow in the jam and Dean was usually hungover. And Sam...well, Sam was responsible for putting his very strange, messy family together.

'It's been ten minutes since I came down the stairs and no one's said anything so good morning,' Sam said, eyeing Adam's dark eye-bags. 'Pulled an all-nighter last night?'

'My boss is a monster.' 

Elbow in the jam. 

Sam considered telling him, but decided against it. Adam was wearing his best suit today, and he treated it like Dean did his car, which was to say, was ferociously protective of it and would kill a man if he so much as brushed the wrong way against the lapels.

Shuffle, shuffle. Dean crunching loudly on his toast and Sam trying to groom his hair into place, horrid fluffy thing.

'You should get it cut, you know.' Dean paused. 'Don't give me that look. Neighbour came over yesterday and asked me to introduce him to my sister.'

Adam choked on his coffee, then he realised he had his elbow in the jam at last and cursed, dabbing at the purple stain with a napkin.

'Hey, Dean?'

'Yeah?'

'Shut up.'

Sam finally got his hair to curl properly and curled his fingers around the cup of coffee sitting before him, as if leeching off of its warmth. Dean had finished with his toast and there were crumbs all over his mouth. He looked sleepy. Of course he did.

Adam was looking at both of them, as if wanting to share something.

His tie was in his coffee, but Sam didn't have the heart to tell him, poor dear.

'What's up, Adam?'

'I won't be home for dinner tonight. Working late.'

Dean grinning, Dean shaking his head as if he understood, and Sam understood that whatever Dean might've been thinking of, Adam wasn't going to do it.

'I'm not seeing anyone, stop smiling like that.'

'You know, Adam, you're going to need a girl once in a while.'

Sam ignored both of them for a while, sipping at his coffee. 

'I do not.'

'Do too.'

'I'm not playing this game with you, you five-year-old.'

'Fine. I'm just saying, take it from me, you wanna get to know someone nice before you get to a point where you can't, buddy.'

As if Dean knew what he was saying. He hadn't had a proper relationship since the last girl ran off with his wallet and a drink. Sam grinned. Adam's lavender tie was still floating in his coffee, and Dean's mouth was frosted with crumbs. The Winchester family was such a prestigious one. 

'Sammy, you start work today, right?'

'Yeah. Speaking of it, I'd best be going before it's too late to.' Sam sunk his cup a last time and stood, brushing the imaginary dirt off of his suit. Dean's eyes followed him, amused.

'You do realise you're subbing for a class full of teenagers, not speaking in front of the president.'

'Shush.'

Adam blinked at Sam. 'You landed the sub job? At where?'

'The high school nearby. I'm just filling in for a Mr Dobbs until he returns from his four-month vacation.'

Sam bent over to put on his shoes.

'Before you leave, tell Dean to wash his face, won't you? He's got a milk moustache and crumbs all over it.'

'Hey! What are you, my mother?'

Sam stood and surveyed his brothers with an exasperated sort of fondness. 'Dean, wash your face,' he said, and then told Adam his tie was in his coffee.

More swears.

Raucous laughter following the blond Winchester as he raced upstairs to change it for another tie.

And with that, the Winchester Breakfast Bonding Time was over.

 

* * *

 

Sam was too tall for this job.

He felt it keenly as he passed through the hallways, the eyes of students on this giant man that had sprouted out of nowhere all at once. If ever a time to curse his height -- as if every day after knocking his head on bus ceilings and tripping over his own feet wasn't time enough -- it was now.

Hell, he was taller than all the teachers he passed. One even shot him a startled look before her face switched to an expression of recognition. Then one of silent pity.

He tried to smile at a group of students passing by with colourful hair and soft voices, but they fled like startled pigeons. 

'Someone's scaring the kids.'

Sam whirled around and standing there was a stranger with a knowing smile on his lips and a swagger in his step as he advanced towards Sam, moving in all too close before pulling away in one smooth gesture, as if he was simply checking to see if Sam minded him being in his personal space. Spoiler: he did.

'Um...'

'Lucifer,' the man introduced, all teeth in his smile, but there was no real venom in there. 

'Luc...really, um, I'm Sam. Sam Winchester.'

'I know.'

_O...kay._

'You're really fucking tall.'

Sam's eyes shot open at that, and he looked around to see if any of the students had heard, but Lucifer...if that was his name at all...was laughing.

'You're such a darlin', Sam. It's endearing, really, it is.'

'Do I...am I supposed to know you from somewhere?'

'Not in particular,' Lucifer smiled. And hell if those two words should be nowhere near each other, ever. 'No, not in particular, Sammy.'

'See, I'm supposed to get to Classroom 1-3A, and I don't really know where it is...'

At this point Lucifer was starting to creep Sam out, and while he really didn't want to be rude, he was hoping he'd get the point and shove off. Instead, the man's smile stretched into a grin. 'Down the hall to the left,' he said, a soft drawl. 'You can get there alright, can't you? You should be able to. Be easy on the little ones, they're barely out of middle school. That's the class you're subbing. Pretty bright, the lot of them, but easily intimidated by a huge ol' puppy like you. You won't have as much luck with the seniors.'

'Thank you?'

'Don't thank me, Sam.' 

Lucifer waved and disappeared into the next hallway. Sam bit his lip, frowning.

First day on the job and he was already running into weirdos.

 

* * *

 

Dean had only been in the library for a couple of minutes when Charlie's red head popped up in front of him. 'What's up, bitch?" Nearby, a scandalised old woman turned to hiss at this very eccentric librarian. Dean choked on a laugh and pulled Charlie into the corner.

'You're going to give the elderly a heart attack, you idiot.'

'Oh, Mrs Pearl? I don't think she likes me. She walked in to me laying it pretty thick on a cutie over there in the Philosophy section.'

'Jesus, Charlie.'

'No, but close,' She winked at him and folded her arms. She was wearing a dark green shirt that read  _COME HERE AND I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT "PUNCH LIKE A GIRL" MEANS_ and blue jeans. The only thing that seemed to be uniform at all was a bright blue button over her heart that read:  _Bradbury._ 'So how's Sam doing? And Adam, of course. I'm a little insulted neither of them are here to see me. I see you seldom enough as it is.'

'Sam's fine; he's a substitute teacher over at that local high school. He's not planning to do it for long, though, he has other plans for his life, and none of them seem to include getting laid.'

Charlie snorted.

'And Adam...well, what's there to say about Adam? He's got a tough boss to please, though. Works late into the night and cringes when I start talking about porn, so that's one thing he's not doing in wee hours. My brothers are both nerds, Charlie. If I don't do something about that, they'll never get a girl.'

'And you? You have a girl then, Mr My-Brothers-Are-Nerds?'

'Well, no, but I'm working on it.'

A mischievous look stole over Charlie's face. 'Course you are.'

Someone cleared his throat. 'I am sorry to interrupt, but someone is requesting your assistance, Charlie.'

Dean turned around and did a double take when he found the owner of the voice. The man that was looking at them had a baritone voice one would've expected of...well, someone who looked like Avi Kaplan instead of someone like  _this._ He had large blue eyes -- God, it was like someone had tipped an entire tube of paint into them -- and dark, curly hair combed neatly over his head; he was dressed in a white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow and jeans, showing uneven tan lines.

The blue button on his shirt read  _Shurley._

'Oh, hey, Cas, I'll be right on it.' Charlie interrupted the silence that ensued, giving Dean a strange look. 'Cas, this is my non-biological older brother, Dean. Dean, this is the head librarian, Castiel Shurley.'

'Hey.'

'Hello, Dean.' Castiel promptly stuck out a little paw and Dean, amused by this solemn little man, took it and pumped twice.

'Mind taking care of Dean for a while, Cas? I promised him I'd go have lunch with him after my shift ends.'

'Not at all.' Castiel's big blue eyes followed Charlie as she disappeared behind a row of bookshelves. Then he turned back to Dean, who for once in his life was at a loss of words to say. Where had his tongue disappeared to? 'Charlie didn't tell me she had a...non-biological older brother.'

'Oh, yeah, she's like my sister.' Dean grinned. 'We met when we were simultaneously checking out a very attractive female cosplayer from the restaurant we were in.'

'Oh.'

Another pregnant pause. Dean wondered if he'd offended him. He racked his brains for something to say, something to kickstart a conversation. Hell, he was smooth with drinks and pickup lines, but suddenly all notions of conversation seemed to slip away from his mind.

'...so you're the head librarian here?'

Why was conversation suddenly so hard to initiate?

Cas's eyes smiled more than his lips did. 'Yes. I find it...entertaining. I have started keeping tabs on people who check out the same genre of books every time and inform them when their favourite author has a new one out. They seem to appreciate it.'

Dean wanted to laugh, because Castiel was so helplessly serious, his blue eyes round and wide as he spoke in his baritone voice much too low for a person as small as he was. But he didn't, because that would've been rude.

'-well?'

He realised Castiel had asked him a question.

'Sorry?'

'Do you read often?'

He paused, reevaluating his entire life. 'Not often,' He chose his words carefully, not wanting to seem like an idiot. 'I don't, uh, make a habit out of it. That, ah, my brothers do.'

'Oh. You have brothers, then? I do, too. I have too many of them.' Castiel frowned slightly.

'I have two. Sam's a regular bookish guy and Adam's a workaholic.'

'That's nice,' He offered in return, and Dean really didn't know what to say to that.

'How about yours?'

'I beg your pardon?'

Castiel's eyes had gone wide again, and his eyebrows were raised in confusion. It was an almost endearing expression, and Dean again fought back against a smile that was threatening the edges of his mouth. 'You said you had a lot of brothers,' he said, in a voice that was very unnatural. What was wrong with him today? 'Are they book lovers, too?'

'Well, my eldest brother is a bit of a...my other brother Nick calls it, quite uncharitably so, a  _dick._ He doesn't read very often unless it's the news. My second eldest brother is Nick, and his idea of reading amounts to not more than pornography and  car magazines. He does occasionally pick up a good novel or so, but ever so rarely, and they're always of the more strange variety. And then there's Gabriel, whose reading habits I won't, in good taste of the library we're in right now, mention.'

Dean chuckled. So did Castiel, nervous.

'It sounds like Nick and I would get along.'

'Oh,' Cas said, looking strangely at him. 'I don't think so, really. Nick doesn't get along with...anybody.'

'Back,' Charlie reappeared, grinning. There was a very suspicious lipstick mark on her left cheek. 'This blonde girl told me she'd give me a kiss on the cheek if I was able to explain LOTR to her in five minutes before her blind date with a fanatic. I managed in three minutes, but I'm not sure if she understood fully or not. Still, got a kiss out of it.'

'That is not what I meant when I said assistance,' Castiel said, frowning. 'She had told me that she wanted you specifically because she required your assistance.'

And hell if the furrow between Cas' two eyebrows wasn't the most adorable thing Dean had ever seen.

'He's precious,' Charlie whispered, and Dean shot her a look, because he thought Castiel had better hearing than that, and he had heard, seeing as how he glanced at her alarmedly.

'I am not...precious.'

He stood there looking confused, glancing from Dean to Charlie to Dean again, as if he knew he was the butt of an inside joke between the two and he didn't like not understanding it.

'My shift's ended, Cas. Can I go for lunch?' Charlie bounced expectantly on her toes, eyes flashing, and Castiel gave her a half-fond, half-frazzled look. Dean wondered if he gave those out a lot. 

'Of course. I'll see you, Charlie. Dean.'

'Bye, Cas.'

He turned around at the nickname, and Dean worried that he'd overstepped it, but a slow smile appeared on Castiel Shurley's face at that. 'Okay,' he said, smiling at Dean in a thoughtful sort of way. 'Bye, Dean.'

 

* * *

 

'Are you Adam Winchester?'

The blonde clicked her tongue and peered at him closely. Adam felt more than a little uncomfortable. She had incredibly green eyes, green beyond green, and they were unnerving.

'Y...es.'

'Mr Shurley has been waiting half an hour to see you in his office,' she said, eyebrows snapping together. Adam felt his heart sink into his dress shoes. He didn't remember Michael Shurley asking to see him, but then again, what did he remember when he was constantly lacking sleep because of the overbearing pile of work Shurley piled onto him? Did he already want back the manuscripts he had given Adam the day before to edit? That would be dickish.

'I'll be right there...'

'Mr Shurley requests your presence  _now.'_

Sweet smile. White teeth. It was almost a snarl. Adam nearly tripped over his own feet getting away from the aggressive secretary and into the elevator. He steeled himself and jammed his thumb into the button to the fourth floor.

He was knocked over by someone as soon as he stepped out of the elevator doors.

'Oh, darling, don't stand in the way like that,' an English accent drawled, and Adam found himself looking into the eyes of a very dressed-up Englishman with a black suit that clung to him and a devilish smile curling his lips. The man had curious eyes as they bore into Adam's face, then his smile curled even more.

He dimly realised that the Englishman had clutched him by the shoulders to prevent him from falling, and got to his own feet, apologies tumbling off his lips.

'I like this one, Michael, why can't more of your subordinates be this way?'

'Adam Winchester?'

_Shit._

Michael Shurley in all his glory was towering over Adam, eyes darker than their normal shade and lips curled in displeasure.

The animosity rippled off of him, so thick you could cut through it with a butter knife. And maybe not even that; maybe you'd need an axe to even get halfway through.

'Winchester, is it? Well, my dear, you shouldn't stand in elevator doorways so.' The Englishman was still talking, but Adam was frozen over with pure apprehension as Mr Shurley took a step towards the both of them. He wondered if he could still leave now, when Michael hadn't said anything yet. He was sweating under his dress shirt. 'Michael, you're frightening the poor darling, don't be such a...what's the word Nick uses...ah yes, dick. Don't let him get to you. He's just a softie, deep down."

'You were leaving, Crowley,' Michael said pointedly, and Crowley tutted and stepped into the elevator, winking at Adam once before the doors slid shut.

'Call me, Michael,' he called out before they did.

A very menacing silence ensued.

Then Michael sighed, his brows furrowed. He looked absolutely terrifying.

'Come into my office, Winchester.'

Adam dared to breathe as he slunk behind his boss.

Michael's office was as always, perfection. Spotless. It was as clean as if the man never used it, yet he spent enough time under Michael's authority to know that this was how Michael liked everything to be, flawless, organised in a way that made it seem like organising was Michael's passion. And perhaps it was.

Adam thought of the tie in his coffee and sighed inwardly.

Michael was standing by one of his shelves, pulling out a folder smoothly. His dark grey suit was cut to his frame, well-fitted and sleek, and his tie was the love-match between beige and light pink, producing a colour that would be lovely on a cloud and was even lovelier on Michael, who would look good in a potato sack. Adam shrunk to a quarter of his actual size when he was around his intimidating boss; he couldn't help it. On a good day, he could manage to not stab himself with the house keys.

'Well, Winchester? What did you come for?'

'Your secretary...she told me you were looking for me.'

The folder snapped shut, and Adam jumped.

Dark eyes were on him.

'I wasn't, Winchester.'

'Oh.' Adam's tongue was heavy in his mouth. He wanted to leave, but his feet felt rooted to the ground. Was this what a panic attack felt like? Any minute now the world would start changing colour.

'Do you know who that was by the elevator, Winchester, by any chance?'

'No, sir.'

Michael gave him an incredulous look that could almost have been described as disbelieving. 'You don't know who that is? The entire company's been buzzing about his visit months before it took place, and you don't know about it at all?'

'I was busy, sir.' Adam was silently dying, inside.

'You must've been.' Michael's eyebrows were still furrowed; he was watching Adam as if he couldn't quite wrap his finger around the idea of his existence just yet. The blond felt himself itching to leave, to a place where he could at least be free of this intrusive glare even if it meant more work for him. 'Well, I'll tell you who it was. Our publishing company and agents are rather renowned in the publishing world, Winchester. But better known is the publisher's of the man you met by the elevator. His name is Crowley, and he is a monster in our field. Every single author he's ever represented is a best-seller.' 

Adam didn't know how to reply; he watched as his boss paced the room like a restless cat.

'How long have you worked for us, Winchester?'

'Two years, sir.'

'And have you ever introduced to us a writer worth our time?'

'I was under the impression that that was the agents' work, sir.' Adam bit back the sarcastic reply too late, and Michael's dark eyes bore into him. 

'Of course...which department are you in, Winchester?'

_Really?_

'You just met me yesterday, sir,' Adam said, trying to keep his voice neutral. 'You stacked a few of Mr Robert Watson's manuscripts on my desk and asked me to go back and edit them over.'

'That was you?' 

_Wow, he is a dick._

If looks could kill, Michael Shurley would be dead. 

'Yes, sir. That was me.'

'Hmm.'

The fear had but all crawled away, and it was indignation that now coursed through Adam, making the space behind his eyes sear with heat.

'...ah. I must have mistaken you for one of the agents. Never mind.' Michael waved his hand dismissively and Adam considered hitting him square between the eyes. He'd always been a good boxer.

'I'll be going, then, sir.'

'Mm.'

Adam waited till the door clicked shut behind him before muttering a curse under his breath. This elicited a giggle from a passing blonde, who had evidently heard him, and he reddened before starting for the elevator again. 

_If only murder was legal, I would have at least two bodies at my feet right now._

_Maybe not. I wouldn't be able to take Michael Shurley unless I had a gun, and I don't even know how to fire one properly._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this was a cute fic idea, and wanted to return to it because 1) my first Supernatural fic and I'm not abandoning it, hell no, 2) Feedback is adorable, thank and 3) I'm severely disappointed with the lack of love for Adam Winchester so far. 
> 
> ...he's still in hell, boys. 
> 
> (that's also why Michael/Adam is a lil longer this round)
> 
> Aaaanyway. If there is still interest in this fic, I might pick it up more often because I don't really have a main fandom I write for, and am curious to experiment in all these new ones. Forewarning: I am unreliable when it comes to time management and will most probably spend the time I could be updating this doing literally anything else.

Dean walked into something he did not want to see - Sam was blowdrying his beautiful, precious hair and Adam was making sounds that sounded like bad porn as he stretched over the beaten-down armchair, a stack of marked-over papers beside him and his laptop on his knees, balanced at a precarious angle that would have made Dean more worried if he hadn't remembered how Adam had literally jumped off a boat one time to save his precious camera. Ironically, the camera had been fine, not even wet, but Adam had been covered in green slimey stuff that Dean hadn't permitted him to get into the car with.

'Adam, are you having sex with the chair, or are you just really relieved that you're finished with your work?'

A mumble of sleepiness answered him.

Dean shook his head and sat across his other brother, who was still running his fingers through that fluffy hair that reminded him of a furry animal he'd shot down with a sling-shot when he'd been young and their father hadn't been a dick - okay, well, had been less of a dick than when he was the last time the Winchesters had seen him - and had taken him to romp in the woods. 

'I smell girl shampoo.'

'Not every shampoo that smells nice is girl shampoo, Dean.'

'Yes, but every shampoo that says  _grapefruit, gardenia and vanilla scented, guaranteed to make you smell like a fresh spring morning_ is.'

Sam shook his head, and droplets sprayed everywhere. 'Oh, shit - I'm not going to argue gender roles with you this early in the morning, Dean.'

'Nah, I don't believe in them; I just think that if you like girl products then you should be able to tell people you do without a thousand denials, bitch.'

'Jerk.'

'Can both of you shut up so I can cat-nap for a bit,' Adam groaned from the armchair.

'How about you do less cat-napping and more actual sleeping?'

'Shut up.' A pillow was flung at him. Dean caught it easily and smothered Sam's face with it. 

Ah, the joy of brotherhood.

The smothering eventually turned into a full-out pillow fight, which proved that honestly, none of the Winchesters had ever essentially grown up. Adam's elbow was in Dean's side, the blond muttering something about being "too tired for your shit", Sam was trying to kill him with a bolster and Dean was in fits of laughter, tears springing to his eyes when Adam grunted and rolled over, only to be stopped by the same armchair he'd just slid down from.

'I hate all of you.'

'Sammy more, right?' Dean asked.

He got a knee to the groin for all his trouble.

'Ow.'

'Shut up,' Adam moaned. He sounded like a banshee. 'Shutupshutupshutupshutup -'

'Shut up shut up,' Sam and Dean echoed in unison.

'I hate bothof you - equally as much.'

 

* * *

 

'Hey, Cas.'

'H...Dean?'

Startled blue eyes stared right back at him.

'Yeah, buddy.'

'I didn't expect you. Charlie's not in, if that's what you came for -'

'I know. I wanted to check out some books for my brother. He's a nerd, and he wants me to pick up some things for him. Evidently he's not aware that I can read, too. "Dean, ask explicitly for a librarian." "Dean, you'd better write this down somewhere."'

Castiel smiled, a big warm one that made something in Dean flip, which was utterly stupid because he had been attracted to women ever since he'd had eyes to see.  _Whoa there, buddy, slow on the hell down._ 'What was he looking for? I could help you find it.'

'Nah, wouldn't wanna...disturb you.'

Dean doubted he would, but he didn't like asking for favours. The library was quiet as ever, a few diligent teenagers conversing softly and quickly over individual Macbooks and spirals, a lone man wandering the Business And Economics section, and several middle aged women congregated around the Teen Romance one. Come to think of it, being a librarian must've been pretty damn uneventful.

'No, no...it's my job, Dean. I'd be happy to help.' Cas tilted his head, blue eyes deep and boundless. And honestly, with that big smile like a kid who'd just been handed a puppy, how could Dean say no? He squinted at the scribbling on his hand, incomprehensible to anyone other than himself.

'It's just...a date. The Kennedy assassination, 11.22.63. That's if I'm correct.'

What the hell, Sammy?

And how the hell did he even know what that date was?

Cas, however, seemed to know exactly what the hell. His blue eyes glazed over for a minute, then turned round and serious, and a meditative smile lingered at the corners of his mouth. 'Stephen King,' He said, and started walking at a pace so brisk Dean had to half-sprint to keep up. 'It's a really good book, I love Stephen King...'

They stopped, turned into a section.

Only someone who was slowly blossoming from adolescence into the awkward years was in that particular section, glasses balancing unsteadily on his freckled nose as he peered at them, looking almost afraid. Dean wondered who had put that fear there.

Bullies, maybe. Those shitheads.

He remembered when Adam had once been bullied, come home with a few scratches on his face and a promise to never go to school again. Of course he'd had to go; Bobby had dragged him there sulky and eyes all red, but Dean had driven there and given those kids what for. A smile curled his lips when he thought of that oh-god-I'm-going-to-piss-myself expression the main shithead had worn when he'd seen Dean casually waiting for him with a hand wrapped protectively around Adam's shoulder.

'Dean?' 

Cas looked worried. Dean mentally kicked himself for spacing out, and broke into a sheepish grin.

'Sorry. Thought of something.'The kid was on his knees, reaching into the bottom shelf for a book in the very far back - why were there two layers of them, that was ridiculous? Dean pulled his eyes away from him and accepted the book Castiel had turned around and plucked from a shelf labelled  _Stephen King_ gratefully. The book was thicker than any novel Sammy had left lying around long enough for Dean to scope out before, white with the title on it in red glossy print. 'Oh, hey, thanks.'

He got a very confused smile in return, as if Cas was wondering what to say to that. He must not have been thanked a lot around here.

'I'll check this out for you.'

'Yeah, thanks. Again. I appreciate it, Cas.'

This time the smile was much more brighter, as if the little man with the baritone voice had realised what the word meant and why Dean was saying it. 

Dean tried to ignore the little tug he got in his chest when he saw it.

It was there, however.

 

* * *

  

Sam was trying to look both disgruntled and offended at the same time, and it wasn't working.

'Sammy, don't look so scared,' Lucifer - Nick sang from across the cafeteria table, clicking his heels against the ground rhythmically. 'I'm not going to eat you.'

Now, why did he severely doubt that statement?

'Already harassing the new teacher, Nick?' A sandy-haired man who was one of the teachers who had offered to help Sam out on his first day - Gabriel, was it? - grinned and slid into the seat vacant beside Sam, who jumped a little, hand instinctively raising to touch his hair. It was a nervous habit, and one Dean had teased shamelessly time after time. Nick's eye landed on the gesture and a wicked twinkle gleamed in it. That was not a good gleam.

'I'm only a substitute.'

'The kids love you, darlin'. They're already Mr Winchester this and Mr Winchester that. I'm almost jea-lous.' Nick drew the last word out long, huffing to make it dramatic, and Sam made a soft noise he assumed was amusement on his part. Honestly, he didn't know.

Nick Shurley was one strange person.

He'd become properly acquainted with "Lucifer" a few days ago at lunch break, when the man had easily sat his ass down across him and greeted him in that flippant manner, 'Hello, Sammy.' and persisted in using that nickname even after Sam had informed him that it was a little too casual a name to be used in a school, and that no one ever - of course excluding Dean and sometimes Adam, though the latter only used it when he was being a smartass - used it on him. Ever. He hadn't seemed to get the message. 

Gabriel now stabbed at his peas and eyed Sam from head to toe.

'Hmm. He's not bad, but too tall. You'd have to do a lot of climbing for this one.' A wink, of course, was shot in Sam's direction, and the latter got an uncomfortable feeling he was being come onto. If Gabriel had been a walking text message, every sentence he made would end with a winky face or at least the moon emoji. Sam sputtered in disbelief, choking on his salad.

'Does any of the staff here not make sexually harassing jokes every hour of the day?'

'I think there's Raphael, but he's a bore,' Nick said, helpfully, and Sam shuddered at the thought of the vice principal even trying to flirt with anyone.

'I'll settle for you lot.'

'Well, that's nice to hear. We're the social outcasts of the administrators here, so it's nice to know that you've got your priorities in check.' Gabriel winked again, rather naughtily, and Sam sighed, putting his head in his hands.

'I don't think there's a class system for the teachers -'

'Wrong, darlin', there's a class system for anything as long as it has diversity in it.'

Nick definitely creeped Sam out. He had a habit of watching him with big, predatory eyes, a small smirk curling his lips as he scoped the man out. And maybe Sam found that a little...he doesn't know, attractive, but to secretly harbour such a thought and to admit it out loud or even come close to betraying it through his actions was unthinkable. He talked funny, too, he had this slight drawl to his voice that always made him sound either bored or fed up with life, or both. Sam realised he was brooding too much on a man who creeped him out, and pushed the thoughts back into the pit of hell in his mind they had surfaced from, picking at his salad. At least the dressing was good; the lettuce was warm and a little dry and honestly he didn't want to know where the tomatoes had come from.

'Alright, fine. Why are you social outcasts?'

'Cos Dad thinks I still can't get a job on my own, s'why he offered me one here, and Gabe's only strong subjects are English Lit and Art History.' Nick waved his fork around, smirking when his brother kicked at him under the table.

'I was an English major, shut up.'

'Which is why you don't have a job,' Nick grinned in return.

Ah, the joys of brotherhood.

'Brothers are great,' Gabe sniped from across the table.

'I would know, I've had to deal with...three of you dicks.'

Sam laughed in spite of himself. 

Two heads turned towards him. Gabriel slung a warm arm around Sam, which he didn't know what to feel about. He left it there, even though Nick's glare was fairly burning into his brother's head by now. 'Well, Sammy here's got the life. Single, young, free. Any siblings, Sammy? I'm sure they'll be just as attractive and available as you are,' wink wink.

'Um. Two brothers.'

'There we go, he knows what it's like,' Nick said, the first time he'd spoken since opening up about his job position and the whereabouts he'd gotten it from. 'Are your brothers as annoying as Gabe, Sammy? I'd ask about Mike the Dick 'cept you don't have the pleasure of knowing him yet.'

'My older brother actually is more like you,' Sam ducked his head in Nick's direction, earning him an appraising look from Gabriel. 'He's, ah, single. Attractive...he's better looking than I am, anyhow, and he's only ever annoying when he gets in my personal business. My younger one is a workaholic, he gets emails every living second I spend around him and is either buried in work or asleep because of it. They're both single.' 

We're all single, he thought, but didn't say.

'That isn't permission to knock them up,' He said sternly when Gabriel looked like a kid on Christmas morning, and then slowly deflated.

'You're no fun, Winchester.'

'I disagree,' Nick said, and Sam looked at him. Their eyes met for a second too long, and Sam felt a lump rise to his throat. 'I think Sammy's going to be plenty interesting.'

 

* * *

 

'Bring this up to Mr Winchester.'

The blonde secretary, again. Adam stared pointedly at her, eyes trailing down to the cup of steaming coffee, then at her again.

'I'm leaving, right now, and...you set me off on a wild goose chase yesterday.'

'I have no idea what you are talking about.' Her voice was composed. Her teeth were pearly white and perfect, straight out of a toothpaste commercial. Adam didn't buy the innocent act for a moment. Not facing those devious green eyes lined with precisely done mascara and fake lashes so long they resembled a butterfly's feelers.

'No, really, what the hell. Did you do that on purpose?'

'I don't have time to chat with you, Mr...Winchester. You simply must get this up to Mr Shurley, tell him that it's what he asked for. I'm too busy.'

Adam didn't have time to argue as she turned away, sweeping her blonde hair behind her shoulder and walked into the distance, heels clicking on the floors. He bit his lip and curled his fingers around the cuppa.

There was nothing to do but go up.

He pressed the button to the fourth floor like someone in a dream, holding the cup steady in his shaking hands. 

Wouldn't it be funny if he spilled it now? No, that wasn't funny. Stop thinking about it. Adam's fingers tightened around the cup and he walked even more slowly, stepping out of the elevator when the doors slid open. Now into the devil's den, he told himself.

He knocked, four times, before a silky voice bade him enter.

'Winchester, lovely to see you. What is it?'

Michael was sitting at his desk, paperwork surrounding a laptop illuminating his handsome, though obviously weary, face.

'Um.' Adam stumbled ungracefully forward and nearly thrust out the coffee. Michael looked at it for a while. As if it was an interesting specimen that disgusted him at the same time.

'You...brought me coffee?'

'No, no...' How was this going wrong so quickly? Adam shook his head and tried to form words to say. 'Your secretary told me to bring this up to you; she said you asked for one.' _Does he think I'm coming onto him?_

'If you mean Janet, I didn't ask her for anything.'  

'Oh my fucking God.'

Silence.

Adam wanted to dig a hole in the ground and bury himself in it. He'd just sworn in front of Michael fucking Shurley. Shitshitshitshitholyshit did not begin to describe it. 

Michael scrutinised him with dark eyes, devout of all emotion. 

Then he sighed and wrapped his fingers around his coffee. 'What is going on, Winchester?'

'I'm the last person you should be questioning.'

He let out a sharp bark of laughter, which made Adam jump, because he didn't know Michael could laugh. It made him seem almost human. The youngest Winchester inched backwards, eager to turn tail and just bolt for it, but he wasn't sure if that would help him in Michael's good books. 'Okay,' Michael said, peering at the coffee suspiciously. 'I'll question Janet. I don't know what's going on between you two, but you'd best resolve it. Also, Winchester, I drink my coffee black; this has too much sugary content in it. It'll warrant diabetes in the future, I'm sure.'

Adam glowered at him, but sucked in a deep breath. 

'Sorry, sir, I'll be sure to get the coffee you didn't order right the next time your secretary tries to toy with me.' He couldn't bite his tongue fast enough, and it came out dripping with sarcasm, something Michael was sure to dislike. 

Instead, a rare smile appeared on his lips.

'You're different from all the other boring subordinates I have.'

'Employees.'

The smile wavered. 'What's the difference, Winchester?'

'Adam, Mr Shurley. Winchester is my father's name, and with all due respect, he's an asshole who doesn't deserve any, and the name I take is Milligan. And the difference is that when you say subordinates, you insinuate that they are of lesser value than you are.' Adam didn't know what had gotten to him, foolish pride or simply the heady feeling of being tricked once again, but his lips were moving out of his control. Rather, actually, too much in his control. He was suddenly afraid by what he was saying. 

Michael's lips twisted into almost a sneer. 

'What if they are, then?'

Wow, he was a gigantic asshole, the biggest asshole on the planet, maybe. Adam's own lips were curled in distaste.

'I must be leaving, sir.' The title was a bitter taste in his mouth. 

'No, I want you to stay.' Michael suddenly stood, and a chill shivered its way down Adam's spine. He'd crossed a line, hadn't he? 

'I have a lot of work, sir -'

'Work can wait. Can't it? I'll postpone the deadline.'

'I'm finished with the project of the deadline.'

Just get me out of here, Adam pleaded to the miniature figurine of what he supposed to be Jesus Christ sitting on Michael's bookshelf. Please, please, please. I might die here if I stay any longer. Or he'll die. Either way, one of us will die.

Michael's eyes flickered over with something unreadable.

'Stay,' He said, like an order. 

'My brothers and I are having dinner together tonight. I don't want to be late, Mr Shurley.' Adam didn't back down. He stared straight into Michael's eyes, not faltering for a moment in his stance. Michael didn't, either, he didn't even have to try. He looked bored, all of a sudden.

'I won't keep you, then.' He returned to his desk, cradling the coffee cup in his hands. 

Adam glanced at him slowly.

'Can I -'

'Go,' A hand, waved dismissively. 'I only wanted to speak to you, that was all. Don't make your brothers wait.'

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaayy thank for reading. Thank. Thank so much.
> 
> Okay, I know the Destiel part was a little short. I feel like Destiel is either slow, adorable fluff or just hot pounding angel sex. No in between. I want their relationship to progress a little slower than the others', if that makes sense? It's my personal opinion, anyway, because hell if I don't want to see Dean getting freaked out about his questionable sexuality (*cough cough* full bi, Dean) but feel free to correct me on it or offer your own opinion.
> 
> Another thing: I wanted to make the secretary Lilith but I didn't know why Lilith would be working under Michael, so there. Janet. The Michael in this story is Matt Cohen's Michael. Very important note: tell me if my characters are OOC. This is literally my nightmare with every fic I publish. This is probably going to be mostly fluff, because the show already puts our boys through so much hell. There will be rocky moments, however, as our boys are also very complex characters I'm still experimenting with.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So I've neglected this fic, but I really kind of wanna start writing again, so here's a new chapter.

Dean was back in the library the following week.

'Hey, Cas.'

The man turned, blue eyes flashing in surprise. 'Dean,' He said, like it was a spell. 'You're back. Are you here to return the book your brother borrowed?' He held out his hands for it, smiling his small, crinkly eye-smile. Dean reached out before he could think straight, a small shiver working its way down his spine as his fingers brushed Cas's.

_Whoa._

They stood there, blinking at each other, till Dean realised what he was doing and jerked away.

'- sorry. Sam hasn't actually finished with the book, yet, he's busy with his job and all. I just came...well, I had nothing to do.' He fought to keep himself in check. '- and I figured you could...show me some books. I dunno, whatever you think I'd like.'

'Oh.' Cas blinked, again, and withdrew his hand. He seemed to stare at the space it'd been for a bit before finding his tongue again. 'Well, I'd recommend -'

Dean leaned forward eagerly, but was shoved aside in an instant.

'Excuse me, I require some help.'

The woman was small, with cat-eye glasses, stringy dyed hair and a pinched look to her thin face. Dean stepped away as soon as he recognised that  _can I see a manager_ haircut and snappish tone, already prepared to hightail out of the situation should need arise. His bitchy alarm was already going off the charts, nevermind that she'd pushed him out of the way, Cas was still in the range of crossfire. He felt strangely responsible for something.

'- I can't find a book that my son needs for his school reading program, and I've received little to no cooperation from any of your coworkers so far. You're the head librarian, right?'

'Yes, but -'

'Good, we finally get some actual help.' She cut him off and smiled. Her earring hoops bounced as she talked, waving her ringed hands around as if she was lecturing Cas. Dean decided he already didn't like her. He stepped closer to Cas, and when he realised he had it was too late to move back without drawing attention. 'My son needs a classic book, but there's no section for that. We tried Young Adult, but there was nothing but some books that shouldn't even be there at all.' 

Castiel's lip curled for the minuscule fraction of a second. Then he was back, composed and smiling, but it wasn't the smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

'Ma'am, the book you're looking for should be in the Literature section right there,' He gestured, and Dean looked. It was a large section of about three shelves, with many sub-sections all labelled under it. 'You'll most probably have more luck in the sub-section labelled "Classics". What book does your son require for his school reading program?'

 

She was doing that weird half-smile, half-smirk thing that made Dean want to punch her in the throat. 

'It's a - well, I don't know the name because Andrew didn't write it down,' She nodded at the barely-teenager hanging behind her, acne and scowl and all. 'But he'd know if we find it, and we haven't. Look, I'd have let him come by himself, only his teachers have been complaining that he's reading "inappropriate material" in class and I want to prove them wrong. It's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, a fourteen year old and porn. So just do something, okay, run a check on one of those little computers you have, see if you have the book.' The woman finished with a so-there flourish of her bangled arms, frowning.

Dean glanced at Cas. He was completely cool, the same professional smile plastered over his complexion.

Now Dean didn't know much about fourteen year olds, but when he'd been fourteen, he'd been obsessed with video games and girls. Sometimes both at the same time. So imagining this kid with his hand down his pants, frantically jerking off to a lesbian erotica - it wasn't all that far-fetched. But Dean was looking for Cas to react, say something snarky like he knew he himself would in this situation. 

'I'll help you look, then,' The latter said instead. 'Excuse me, Dean.'

'Uh, yeah, sure.'

Cas led the woman and her son into the Lit section, leaving Dean alone in the middle of the library. He stuck his hands into his pockets and looked around: the library was almost empty at this time of day. He felt a little bit lonely. Charlie wasn't working today, she had an exam of some sort at her college. The librarians that were present were huddled together, whispering. Pointing at where Cas had disappeared with the woman and her child. Probably laughing, too.

The little shits.

He loitered around for a little bit, and when it became clear that Cas wasn't going to be coming back to him anytime soon - he heard a shrill voice starting to rise in volume from the Lit section - he headed for the entrance. There was an odd pulling in his chest, something akin to disappointment. He'd driven all the way here, after all. To what? Read? Now that he thought of it, the idea was a little ludicrous. Sam would probably check him for a fever if he found out. Dean scowled and kicked at a compressed can lying on the sidewalk, sending it crashing into a group of pigeons. They took off, cooing in alarm.

_I wanted to see Cas._

'Shut up,' He muttered, closing the door of his car and turning the ignition.

\--

Cas ran out, sometime after. He was holding a book in his hands, a hardcover that was one of his favourites. When he didn't find who he was looking for, he walked back, and passers-by wondered who the dejected-looking figure was trudging muddy tracks - for it'd rained after Dean had left -  into the library. 

 

* * *

 

**01:03  
Yoo-hoo, sexy.**

**01:04**  
There's a last minute meeting at one today. Don't be late.

**01:06  
Suppose I'll see you.**

There was a number of reasons Sam had been skeptical of these messages. Unknown number aside, the messenger had also called him "sexy", which was a big black cross in any book. Especially Sam's. And Sam didn't draw in any of his books, it'd be sacrilege. 

Nonetheless, he was here, and it looked like the messenger hadn't been lying to him after all. Several cars he knew to belong to some of the school teachers were parked alongside the road outside the school building, and it took some time to find a spot not occupied by a vehicle. When he did and finally pulled in, it was five past one and he had to sprint into the school gates. It was quite a long sprint - the school was huge, and he had to think back to his days on track team to stop from pulling something on his hustle there - but he made it to the library just as the head of the English Department was closing the doors.

'I'm so sorry,' He gasped. Sweat rolled off of his forehead. 

The head frowned, looking annoyed for a moment. 'They've already started,' She said, folding her arms. 'I'm not sure if I can let you in.'

'Look, please, I was informed at one AM and I didn't read my messages till late, so -' He huffed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm down. The back of his shirt was soaked in perspiration - it was a by no means pleasant feeling. 'Please, please, please let me in. I'll just slip in quietly and no one will know.'

She eyed him doubtfully. Then she shook her head and sighed, opening the doors. Sam could've wept.

'Just go in - just please don't ever be late again.'

He nodded and rushed in...and stopped, because all eyes were turning to him, and okay, that was pretty fucking terrifying. The headmaster turned back to the teachers he was speaking to, paying him no more heed, and Sam wanted to sink through the ground. It was too late to just bolt for it, too: the head of ED was already taking her seat and the doors were shut.

_Just sit down, and act nonchalant until you can sell it._

He looked around, a blush rising on his cheeks, and found Nick Shurley, lazily pulling out a chair beside him. Funnily enough - as if Fate was trying to fuck with him - it was the only vacant seat at the table they were occupying, so he slid down into it without protest.

'So...what's going on?'

Nick smiled, slow and easy. His wolf smile. 'The head's talkin' to the department heads about something, probably some new formatting on the tests. I, a humble Chemistry teacher, am just sittin' here and looking pretty. You can join me, if you'd like, though you don't need to do very much.'

'You're such an asshole.'

'You wound me,' Nick put his hand over his heart, and Sam smiled in spite of himself.

'Where's your brother?'

'Co-head, English Department,' He nodded at the group to which the headmaster was talking, and Sam picked out curly, nut-brown hair and a wink. 'Bet you didn't know that little bit of information, huh? Had to do something with his English Major.' 

Gabe waved, and Sam did a little thing with his fingers in return.

'Look at Raphael. He's so excited to be speaking for once. Like Mr D's personal pet, that one.' Nick nudged him, and he turned to see the vice principal puffing out his chest and starting forward. Sam tuned him out, slowly dissolving into nothingness. He was still flushed from the run and the embarrassment combined, and the day was not turning out in his favour. He'd spilled his coffee over the sofa in the morning, which would've been fine if it hadn't been scalding hot. And if Adam hadn't been cat-napping on it, again. And if he hadn't been wearing his new suit and tie, too.

Adam had a not so nice scream.

Sam winced again at the memory and put his head in his hands.

Nick nudged him under the table. Sam lifted his head and was met with a pair of unusually concerned, foggy eyes.

'You okay there, pretty?'

He shrugged, looking back to the principal. 

It was a long meeting. They talked over matters like discipline and reformatting of certain events. The sports day would be held a week later as there were weather predictions of storms. The school dance would take place in a hotel ballroom they probably couldn't afford - there would need to be a fair to provide money for that, and several heavy-handed donations. Sam finally slipped away when Mr D asked to see the heads again, this time in private, and was almost out of the school when Nick grabbed him by the shoulder. Hard.

'You seem distracted.'

'Yeah, I am about to go home -'

'Are you free right now? Come and grab a coffee with me. The cafeteria's open till four.' Nick folded his arms, grinning, and Sam hesitated.

'I don't know...'

'It's fine if you can't. Understand, you're busy and shit. Just seems like you could use some time to clear your head.'

'No, I'll - I'll come with.'

\--

The coffee was scalding. Sam nearly dropped it in the paper cup it came with, but caught himself in time, dropping it neatly on a nearby table and sucking at his fingers. Nick watched in amusement, already sipping from his. Devil.

'Thank you,' Sam said, the words sounding funny in his mouth.

Nick didn't reply. He leaned against one of the pillars, cup in hand - he must have had incredibly thick skin - and closed his eyes, almost meditative. Sam watched, afraid to say something. Break the silence. He stood there awkwardly for a bit, nursing his coffee. 

'Is there...something wrong?'

Nick laughed. It was a deep chuckle, nice and satisfying. 'Darlin', we don't do it this way in these parts. Got problems? You keep 'em to yourself. No one's gonna rub your back and hold your tissue boxes for you, at least not in this world.'

'That's not right.' Sam frowned. 'You've gotta - sometimes, you've gotta ask for help, too.'

Nick opened his eyes. He looked at Sam for a bit, long and hard. 

'You're somethin', alright, Sammy.'

'I told you to stop calling me -'

He waved a toned hand around, and Sam shut up. Nick looked thoughtful, for a bit. Like he was lost in emotions Sam couldn't even begin to comprehend - sonder, the realisation that everyone else had a life completely of their own, with feelings and memories and experiences he could never ever grasp as keenly as he did his own. His eyebrows furrowed: that made his forehead dent in a way that was almost cute, like a wrinkly sort of dimple.

'I'm having some family problems, 's all. Nothing to worry about, Sammy. But I didn't call you here to talk about myself, though I'm sure I'm a very interesting topic to talk about,' With a wink, and something - apprehension, perhaps - seemed to melt away in Sam's gut. 'You came in like a water buffalo, all dripping. I thought Raphael was going to blow a fit, but then there was Zachariah. I've never seen him turn a darker shade of purple. The veins on that man's head were standing out so much I was prepared to run for the 'brella, I thought it'd be dripping brains.'

'Ew.'

Nick grinned.

'So, I've shared my part. Anything goin' on with you? Girl troubles? Your brothers worrying you?'

'I'm fine,' Sam said, stuck on automatic, and Nick's lip curled. He swallowed a gulp of coffee and grimaced as it nearly blistered his throat. 'I'm - yeah, I just was a bit late, that's all. I was rushing here.'

'I see.'

Nick's eyes fell to someone behind Sam, and the latter turned to see a gorgeous blonde with curly ringlets of hair and foggy, long-lashed eyes. She smiled, and okay, that was at least fifty different shades of sexy on her lips right there. Sam had to peel his eyes away to remember that he wasn't watching some beauty ad. This woman, whoever she was, was drop-dead, stunningly gorgeous. 

'Good afternoon, Lilith,' Nick said, and Sam shrunk into himself as she stepped forward. It was difficult, seeing as how his chin was literally in the alcove between his collarbones to even see eye-to-eye with her.

'Don't be so formal, Lucifer. It's not a schoolday, and I haven't seen you in forever.'

'Ah...' Nick's eyes turned distant, and Sam realised there was tension in the air, sparkling and fizzing as they even breathed. Their eyes were firmly fixated on each other: the curves of Lilith's form-fitting red dress, the folds and creases in Nick's jacket. Sam felt uncomfortable: he was extra. A stranger to this intimacy. 

Something bitter rose in his chest, and he turned to leave.

'What're you doing, darlin'? You haven't even finished your coffee, yet.' Nick grabbed him by the shoulder for the second time today and Sam whirled too fast, was met with a pair of smoky grey-blue eyes. Lilith's arms were folded, and she was looking him over. Vaguely interested. 'This is Lilith, an old friend. She's one of the higher-ups on the school board. Lilith, this is our new substitute, Sam Winchester. Say hi, darlin'.'

'Hey.'

'Hello, Sam,' Lilith stuck out a hand with perfectly manicured red nails, and her eyes sparkled. 'How's life been at this school thus far? I do hope Lucifer isn't bothering you too much.'

'Stop callin' me that,' Nick despaired, but it was with a chuckle. 'That name's as old as time, sweetheart.'

'It's his middle name, you know.'

Sam blinked in surprise. 'It's -'

'Let's just say my father was an eccentric individual,' Nick said, hotly, and Sam dropped it. He couldn't help, however, but glance at Lilith. She was biting at her lower lip in a way that was not very subtle. Nick didn't seem to even notice it. He took another long draft from his coffee. 'Anyhow, I'm perfectly capable of showing Sammy here a good time. We've had oodles of fun so far, right, Sam?'

'Oodles,' Sam repeated.

Lilith smiled, but it wasn't the amused type: it was more of the  _I'm-humouring-you-but-you-need-to-leave_ kind. Sam got the message, alright.

'Look, I have to be back to prepare dinner, my brothers can't cook for shit and it's already so late - I'll see you tomorrow, Nick.'

'Aw. I'll see you, then, Sexy.'

He looked almost disappointed as he inclined his head towards Sam, pouting a little. Lilith was tapping her heels against the ground, impatient. Sam downed the rest of his coffee and crumpled the paper cup in his fist. The bitter taste in his mouth was still there. It felt like he'd swallowed sulfur. Or the ashes of something that used to live. He nodded at Lilith briskly and started for his car.

_I'll see you then, Sexy._

Sam groaned.

'Oh, that motherfucker.'

 

* * *

  

Adam hit send, and sank back into his chair with a sigh of...of whatever it was, a mixture of relief that the job was done - for now - and that he didn't have to work his sorry ass to the bone to get it in before the deadline anymore. 

_I'm going to die._

He closed his eyes, oblivious, for a moment, to the chatter of his coworkers and the whirring of the printers, when all of a sudden the room fell into a hush and all was quiet. 

_That's...not right._

He opened his eyes, and sat up immediately when he recognised the pressed, neat figure of Michael Shurley. Everyone was looking at him, eyes wide in the  _you fucked up_ expression Adam loved to hate. Michael was simply standing there, without any clear motive. He swallowed and opened his mouth.

'Sir -'

'Winchester,' Michael cut off, and oh boy was he fucked. 'Can I see you outside, for a bit?'

_I fucked up I fucked up I_

He smiled, shaky.

'Sure.'

\--

It was raining when Adam stepped out onto the balcony. Michael was staring off into the distance, eyes stormy. He only turned when Adam tripped over his own two feet at the door...and when he cursed.

'I hope you don't speak that way to our authors.'

'One of them likes to address me as "motherfucker who makes me rewrite",' Adam responded before he could think, a tad too cheerfully, and it was too late to take it back, now. Michael looked at him with a crease in his forehead, and he resolved to stop making remarks like that. It was very off-putting, being stared at by such an enigmatic, scary superior. What had he fucked up this time?

'I don't care what they call you, it's rude and we'll lose business that way. Though I suppose it doesn't really matter, you're not representing anyone particularly knowable, either.'

What had that been about being rude? Adam scowled and turned to the rain as well. It pattered gently on the railing, some of it dancing off onto Adam's suit jacket - it was an old, tattered one, Sam had spilled coffee on his newest one in the morning. 'Noted, sir.'

'You're not very good at following orders.'

'You're not very good at giving them.'

_Could you please stop that -_

'Sorry,' He thrust in, biting down hard on his tongue. Michael just looked annoyed.

'That's no way to speak to your superior -'

'I said I'm sorry.'

Adam's lower lip jutted out stubbornly, and Michael's eye alighted on it. He frowned, and Adam wondered if he'd crossed a line. Ah, well, it wasn't like he'd never been fired before. On the contrary, he'd been fired plenty: for insubordination, for uncooperativeness with his coworkers, for skipping shifts at the burger place downtown and for being caught smoking on the job. Let's just say his record was pretty greyscale.

'You should learn to apologise better.'

'I am sorry,' Adam said, trying oh so very hard not to let the vehemence escape into his tone. 'I will do better next time, sir.'

Michael looked as if he knew Adam was bullshitting, and he didn't look happy about it. 'I could fire you right now, Mr Winchester. And then where would you be? Stuck in a gutter somewhere, rotting with your brothers? They do have jobs, don't they, or are they content to stay home and do nothing while you work yourself to the bone inside this tiny building? Do they -'

There was a sound of skin hitting skin, and Michael Shurley stumbled backwards, eyes wide in surprise as he clutched at his left cheek. Adam's fist was still clenched, the knuckles smarting. He was breathing very heavily.

'You -'

'Don't talk about my brothers that way,' Adam breathed, still shaking. 'Don't you ever dare - no one does that. Ever.'

'Get out. And I don't mean this building, I mean this company. Get your things, and leave. I don't expect to see you here tomorrow.'

Michael whirled around and disappeared, stalking off into the hall somewhere, and Adam was left standing there, stunned. 

_Fuck._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Instagram @smol_asiansatan or on Tumblr @Theswiftone27.


	4. Adam

Adam was still shaking when he dumped his shit into the boot. 

_What the fuck did I do, what the fuck did I -_

He clasped his hands together. Both for the warmth and the assurance that he still even had hands. Then he leaned into the side of the car and closed his eyes, trying to escape to a safe place. The world was still soft and funny, had been since he'd run back into his office, pushed what things he had into a cardboard box and taken the elevator down into the car park. His knees were, too.

Adam dug his knuckles into his eyes and got a sharp burst of pain in return: it blossomed over his vision and he nearly passed out.

He'd never needed to fight his own battles, not really. Dean had done that when John stopped. Adam had always just hung behind and watched, fighting back the bile rising in his throat. Probably contrary to his normal, argumentative to the point of angering self, he couldn't stand violence. Had never advocated for it. When the boys in his class were toughening it out behind classrooms where they thought the prefects and teachers couldn't see, he was locking himself in washroom stalls and wishing it were over sometime sooner. Trying to breathe.

 _I can't leave._ Panic shot through him.  _Where would I go? Sam's at work, and Dean's never home. I don't have a set of keys. I don't have friends to go to._

He straightened, rumpling his blond hair, and tried to think. 

_adam? hey adam where you going - adam what are you doing you gone crazy yet? - the hell man it's the middle of the day -_

His fingers trembled on the keys, but he made the call regardless.

Three rings, then Sam picked up. 

'Hey, Adam, what's up? Thought you had work.'

'I'm, um, I'm coming to see you.' Adam's knees locked together and he fought off another wave of nausea. God, would he be able to drive? 'I don't have the spares, and no one's home - is it okay? Do you have - do you have class?'

'Whoa, what's wrong?' Sam was a rock, bless him. 'Hey, you alright? I have another class at one, but you can just sit in the cafeteria and wait for me. Why are you - you know what, you can tell me when you get here. You know how to get to the school, right?'

'It's the one just off of Mads's, isn't it?' 

'Yeah. I'll see you.'

Adam hung up, weak. What would he say? 

_I got fired because I'm a fuckin' smartass like always._

He shut the boot and slid into the car, trying to shut it all out.

 

* * *

 

It was raining when Adam arrived outside the school, and he had to run through the downpour, all the way to the gates, where he had to answer at least eight questions before the guard took pity on him and let him in. 

'I'll have to give you identification,' He said, frowning at how Adam was trekking mud all over his clean floors. 'So if anything happens -'

'Look to Sam Winchester.'

He slung the GUEST nametag around his neck obligingly, and took off once more. His hair was plastered to the side of his face, and he was crying, just the slightest bit. No one would know. Not apart from the rainwater, anyway. He made it to what looked like an overglorified prison dining hall, and slid into one of the seats, completely drenched, and shivering to boot.

'Jesus, Sammy, you said you were expecting your brother, not a wet chicken.'

'Adam,' Sam was by him in an instant, behind him a blond haired man with a mildly concerned look on his otherwise smug face. 'You're soaked, Jesus, why didn't you bring an umbrella?'

'Figured I could just make a break for it.'

Sam stripped off his jacket, and Adam stood at once.

'No, Sam, I'm not wearing your stupid jacket: I'm going to get it wet. And it's several sizes too big for me.'

'Stubborn thing. Must run in the family.' The man from before observed, and Adam scowled at him. 'Oh, look, same scowl. Cheerful bunch, the Winchesters.'

'Who the hell -'

'This is Nick,' Sam said, cutting in. 'Please ignore him, it's the only way to get him to leave you alone.' He wrapped his jacket around Adam despite the protests, and frowned. 'You're gonna get such a bad cold by tomorrow...damn it, Adam.'

Something warm was pushed into his hands, and Adam looked up. That smell was something he'd become more or less slave to. Nick had an oddly satisfied little look on his face as he stepped away. Adam curled his fingers tighter around the paper cup of coffee and tried not to scowl even harder.

'...thanks.'

'No problem, chicken.'

'I -'

'Nick,' Sam snapped, and the man relapsed into silent chuckles. 

'I'm sorry I'm disturbing you,' Adam said, breathing in the scent of the coffee. The cup trembled in his hands. 'My, um - I guess there's no better way to put it, so...I got fired.'

'You got fired? The hell, Adam?' Sam's reaction was, as predicted, drastic. His entire face changed. Then he wheeled back, trying to make Adam feel a little better: 'I mean, I knew you got problems with your boss and shit, and you worked too late anyway, but fired? What did you do?'

'I may or may not have...well, punched him in the face.'

There was no nice way to put that. 

'You punched your _boss_ in the face?'

'He was being an asshole! I couldn't stand for it anymore, so I just - I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry.' Adam was playing with the sleeves of Sam's jacket, trying not to let the wave of emotions wash over him again. He couldn't cry, not anymore. Furiously, he swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. 'I know I was supposed to stay calm, keep my job. I fucked up. I'm -'

'Jesus, I'm not angry at you.' Sam lifted both hands in an expression of defeat. 'You don't have to apologise, okay? I'm just...surprised. That's all. Really, I'm just glad it's over with.'

'I'm sorry?'

'You obviously were miserable. Worked your ass off to try and get a promotion, and you still got passed over the last time. Maybe it's for the best, that's all.'

'Not really the best thing to say, Sammy,' Nick said, dryly. 'At least, not now. Give the poor kid some room to breathe.'

The back of Adam's eyes burned. He buried his teeth in his lower lip, breathing hard. Maybe Sam was right, maybe the job had been absolute shit: maybe it was providential that he didn't have it, anymore. But then again, he'd loved his work. No matter how shitty the pay might have been. No matter how much of a dick his superior had. Adam had genuinely liked doing what he did, and now? He wasn't so sure, not anymore.

'I think I just need some time off,' He said.

Nick got up. 'Look, darlin', being fired isn't the end of the world. Talk some sense into him, hmm, Sammy? It's been nice meeting you. Now I've gotta go back to my work.' He squeezed Sam's shoulder before he left, which was weird. Adam shot him a look. He was weird. He voiced the thought, and Sam grinned.

'Yeah, he is weird. A bit of a creep, too, honestly.'

Sam's eyes were foggy.

'Are you...like, friends, now? Because I really don't know how Dean would feel about someone like him coming around and giving out advice. No offence, but that guy creeps me out.'

'Y'know, I was leaving just as you called.' Sam sits down across of him, and Adam winces. 'No, it wasn't - Nick was talking to someone. A girl. She was real pretty, yeah? And...U thought I could use a break. It's not a schoolday. It's fine, we're not...friends. Not like friends friends, anyway. He's just some guy I talk to because it gets lonely, here.' He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, as it seems, and then cracks a slow smile. 'Don't tell me you never got lonely at your job.'

'It's in the work description. I'm working with authors, some of the most antisocial people on the planet. Hell, the most.'

'And you can bear that?'

Adam shrugs. 'I - I was fine with my job. I liked it. I  _liked_ my job, and then I went and fucked it up. Spilt milk and all, yeah?' He hadn't had a conversation like this for a long time. Tended to avoid any one that even ventured near therapy. And God knew he probably needed that, too. But it was nice, talking things over with Sam. Maybe he needed it. The talk, and the break. Maybe he just needed to clear his head. 'You know what? I'm fucking freezing. Let's get home.'

Sam's eyebrow rose. 

'First one to get home gets to tell Dean we forgot to pick cherry pie from the store on the way back.'

'It's your turn to pick it up today -'

'You better get running, then.'

 

* * *

 

 

Bobby was at home when they get there, which made Adam feel strange. Bobby had, he knew, always been a sort of parental figure to Sam and Dean, but him? Not so much. Maybe he just never got to spend as much time with the man, know him as well. He accepted the shoulder hug without protest: any hug is a good sort of hug, today.

'I brought in some pie from a diner,' Bobby said, and Sam looked like he could kiss him. He lost: Sam had never been very heavy-footed. 'Whoa, there, easy on the back. I ain't as young as used to be.'

'You're a goddamned miracle is what you are.' Dean waved his pie-sticky fingers from the kitchen, and Adam rolled his eyes so hard they might have dropped out of their sockets. 'Aaand it's another miracle, Adam's actually in time for dinner! Come on, sit down, the old man also brought cheeseburgers in from the same diner. Bless your soul.'

'Call me old man again and you won't have a soul.'

They all laughed. Adam felt - slightly - better, but his stomach still lurched when Dean brought up punctuality. There was no skirting around this, was there?

They were halfway through a banter-fest between Bobby and Dean when Adam found he couldn't take it, anymore. He stood up, banging his side on the table, and swore. Loudly. Sam winced, but was waved away.

'I got fired,' Adam said, and somehow that was everything, to be able to say that. 'I just...today, at work, I punched my boss in the face because he started talking shit about my family, and he sacked me on the spot. So, there.'

It was a couple of agonisingly long minutes before Dean erupted into laughter. Adam stared at him, affronted.

'Jesus, is that what you got your panties in a twist about? No wonder you didn't laugh at my jokes, they're amazing. And the  _so, there,_ too, alright, princess.'

'You're not...mad?'

'Why the hell would I be mad at you?'

'Which was what I was trying to tell him,' Sam cut in, with a look that made Adam shrink, 'But he wouldn't listen. Adam, it's completely fine. I can earn enough to pay off the rent, and it's not like we're hard on cash. Dad left a bit, okay?'

'I don't want to feel like I'm not pulling my weight. I wanna...I wanna do something, okay? I just - I don't know.'

'Adam,' Dean said. That was nice. He was using the older brother voice, which was always nice. 'We're not. Mad. End of story. Hell, if it means I get to see my baby brother more, I'm even happy about it. Ain't that right, Bobby?'

'I think what your brothers are trying to say is that they support you.' Bobby was, as ever, the epitome of wisdom. He looked like he was having a hard time stomaching everything going on at the moment, but still managed to be a complete rock, solid as ever. Adam wanted to kiss him. And then...ew, perish the thought. 'No matter what. Family don't end in blood, and it don't end when you fuck something up. And you fucked nothing up, you hear? From what I hear of your boss, he ain't exactly a ray of sunshine, either.'

Adam was feeling significantly smaller when he went up to his room. Jesus, when was the last time he'd actually taken time to clean the place up? He waded through a pile of stained dress shirts and ties, reaching his small - albeit clean, at least - bed. 

He plugged in his phone. It'd been dead since he hung up on Sam: he'd forgotten to charge it the night before, and now it lit up faintly as the symbol for charging flickered over the previously dark screen. He dreaded to think what he'd find in his emails. Best to change his name and move to New Zealand. Was that far away enough? He resolved to Google how high the living standards in New Zealand were when he was feeling less like shit.

Buzz. 

Damn, but this charger was fast.

Adam froze when he saw the number. It was given to every employee, even interns at conferences: meant for emergencies, but no one ever dared to dial or message it. Hell, the only reason Adam had it plugged in was because he was an irrational, paranoid asshole. 

_M. Shurley._

 

* * *

 

 

_Winchester:_

_One of your authors, a B.E. Jordan wanted you to look over what he's working on. He was very adamant that it be you, and no one else. We usually don't offer rescinds, but we'll make this one exception. See me in my office tomorrow morning. That is, if you are willing to come._

_M. Shurley._

 

* * *

 

 

Adam didn't know why he was here.

_I said fuck it, didn't I? I quit, no, he fired me. I was moody, then I got over it._

He'd never been good at making decisions fast. There was no turning back, now: he was halfway through the office. People were turning to look at him. He'd caused quite a spectacle when he'd left, knocking over things and into people without turning back. There were whispers running around the room. His ears burned. 

The elevator. He jammed his thumb into the button so hard he thought it might break off. His palms were sweaty. He ran them down the side of his dress pants. God knew why he'd dressed up for this, he was just here to...

What was he here for?

To say fuck you to Michael's face? To resign properly, after all? To get the rest of his things back? 

Adam had an uneasy feeling he was supposed to work this out before he actually decided to come. He'd slept on the decision, and that was never a good thing to do. And then the elevator doors slid open, and he dug his teeth into his lower lip.  _I'm not going to chicken out. I came all this way. I don't care how scary Michael Shurley is, I'm scarier when I'm pissed off, and he pissed me off._

He stilled when he saw Michael standing outside his office, talking animatedly with someone he vaguely recognised the back of. 

_Yeah, I'm not pissed anymore, can I go?_

Michael was. His eyebrows were pressed together, eyes looking like they could shoot sparks any moment now. Whatever kind of conversation he was having, it was not one Adam wanted to provide a follow up to. Then the person he was talking to laughed and turned, and Adam swore.

'You're Sammy's little brother,' Nick said, in a tone that was perhaps meant to be conversational. 

Adam could feel Michael staring at him. His hand jumped to his tie:  _he'd talked about punching Michael when Nick had been there,_ and he felt the faintest wave of panic wash over him. He was already beginning to lose control of his senses. The last time he'd actually broken into a panic attack had been, what? College? He dug his fingernails into his palms, determined to stay grounded.

'Nick.'

Nick was grinning, but it wasn't a good grin. He spun back to Michael. 'So this is the boss? I don't really blame you, y'know, now. I'd punch him too if I got the chance.'

'You were leaving, Nick.' Michael's tone was steely. Adam wanted to sink through the ground, bury himself and sleep for a thousand years. Hell, knowing Michael Shurley, he'd be alive when Adam woke up, too. 'Goodbye.'

'Try not to eat him alive, brother dearest. I do like this one.'

_Brother._

__In that single instant, Adam realised just how fucked he was.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate to leave on a cliffhanger, but I also love to leave on a cliffhanger. Send me oodles of love.


	5. Chapter 5

It turned out, Sam could manage to finish a whopper of a novel in less than a few days, even while balancing whatever the hell he did at school.

Dean slid out of his car. The book dangled loosely from his right hand, heavy in a way that made him wonder why people picked on nerds for being weak. He pushed his keys into the pocket of his jeans - they fit snugly against the outline of his wallet - and stepped into the library.

Almost immediately, he was attacked by fumes of...lemongrass? He inched back, but the entire library seemed to be drowning in the smell. He coughed, and after a bit, it became bearable. 

'Sorry about the smell,' Someone shouted from the front, waving a magazine for what looked like miniature gardening supplies around. 'We'recleaning out the shelves, and it was the only disinfectant we had. We're only taking returns today, so if you want to get a book, you have to come back someday else.'

'The smell is also because he knocked over a bottle of our disinfectant,' Somebody else said, more amused.

'It was an accident! I have two left feet.'

Neither of them were Cas. One - two left feet guy - was a vaguely Asian looking kid in plaid and a weird apron getup; the other was lost among a row of shelves. Dean stepped forward, feeling slightly dazed, and it wasn't just because of the smell. The Asian kid's button read  _Tran._ Tran was now staring at Dean as if he were a ghost. He had rather large eyes, and in all honesty, they were more than a little unsettling. Dean took a furtive step backwards. Again.

 _No Cas. No Charlie._  

'Well?' Tran prompted, though not unkindly.

'I wanted to...return. This.' Dean put 11.22.63 on the counter, and Tran looked at it for a few moments before picking it up. While the latter busied himself with the scanner and a computer, Dean glanced around: aside from the kid in the shelves, whoever they were, there was no one else present. The library was empty, today. 

'If you're looking for Cas,' Tran said, startling him out of his reverie. 'He's not coming in today. Had a family emergency, or something.'

'Oh. Okay. Uh, thanks.' Dean hooked his lips up into what he hoped resembled a smile, and turned to go.

 _A family emergency._ Yeah, he knew a lot about those.

'No, wait, hold on just a mo.' Dean jumped when the kid dove below the checkout counter, rummaging among drawers. There was a thump, and a wince. Two left feet, he'd said. 'Fine, I'm fine. Are you a...Dean? Sorry, I'm hoping that's how you pronounce it -'

'No, it's fine, you got it right.'

Hard not to.

'Okay, good.' The kid popped back up with a paperback, a grin plastered from ear to ear. 'I'm Kevin, if you were wondering. I don't understand why they don't just put our first names on these stupid things.' He flicked absently at his blue button. 'Anyway, Cas brought a book in from home, said to give it to you if you popped around. Said you or your brother might like it. His description of you was, uh, interesting. To say the least.'

Dean took the novel, heart strangely fluttering. 

_The Soldier's Farewell. Alan Monaghan._

His description of you was interesting. To say the least.

'Thanks, Kevin. Um, tell him I say thanks, too. And, uh, nice name. Kevin.' He knew he was rambling, but God, he couldn't stop. What was he nervous about? 

Kevin looked at him like he'd grown a third eye. 

'I'm...thanks? I think. I don't suppose you want to check out any other books?' 

'No, no. Um. Have a nice day.'

He stumbled back out into the sunshine - and fresh air - grinning like an idiot. And hell, maybe he was. 

 

* * *

 

'Jesus, haven't seen you in a while.'

Benny was just as Dean remembered, only older: broad-shouldered, a well defined jawline now covered with stubble, and a moustache that seemed to mock any others in the immediate vicinity. He pulled away from the one-shoulder hug and grinned at Dean, already a little tipsy: and it was early, too. He smelled like nicotine and the sharp twang you found in most whiskeys. So, yeah, the same Benny, only bigger, and sadder. Dean couldn't pin his finger on the sadness, somehow. It lingered at the edges of his old friend's eyes, in his smile.

'Been drinking this early?'

'Hell, no. Hungover from a late night.' They were seated outside a small coffeehouse, and Benny took out a cigarette. 'Want a smoke? Might do you some good.'

'Nah, I'm good.'

'Suit yourself.' The flick of a lighter. 'If I die, it ain't gonna be for lack of a good smoke. Probably will die of it, too, huh?' He turned the box around so Dean could see it: the gory depiction of a throat after years of smoking. 'Hope these little things do the young uns something good. Can't shake the habit, not really, anymore.' A long draft, and a puff of smoke. Benny seemed distant. 

Dean's eyes jumped to a mark on Benny's neck, previously covered by a convenient upturn of his collar. 'You, uh...still with Andrea?'

His friend's grey-blue eyes clouded over. 

'Not since sometime ago. Figured...we both could use the break.' He tapped the cigarette onto the ashtray in the middle of the table, watching the end of it crumble off into dust. 'What about you? What new fling are you on, pal?'

Stupidly, Dean thought about the book sitting in his car. He was a heterosexual man. That had always been a given. He'd looked at girls, and figured, hey, he liked tits, he liked the curvy way their bodies had and he liked how their lipsticks tasted. He liked that little husky whisper in the morning after a good night's rest, and he liked how they came in all different shapes and sizes, all a different character ready to spice up his life as he knew it. Of course, that wasn't to say he hadn't looked at a picture of Ryan Reynolds and completely fallen over himself, but that was different. 

_Cas._

'I'm not seeing anyone, no.'

Benny studied him behind his fag, drifting. 'That girl from last time...Jo? What happened with her?'

'She moved out back, with her mother. Things...didn't work out.' Dean absently wished he'd taken up Benny on the offer, after all. Thinking of Jo made his insides turn in, a little. She'd been phenomenal. A mind and character of her own, snappy and beautiful and a whirlwind of too much at once. Maybe there'd been flaws in their relationship, but he was sure they would've worked them out in due time. He'd been so sure. 'I guess she didn't want to think about leaving her mother alone for too long, her dad passed away some time ago.'

'Right. Sorry.'

'Not your fault, is it?'

They reached for their coffees at the same time. Dean felt strangely serene, sitting in a place like this with Benny. Like old times, he reckoned. Though in the old days, the last place they would be was a coffeehouse, drinking coffee, of all things. Maybe things had changed for the better.

'No.' Benny smiled, and took a long draft of his coffee. 'No, it ain't.'

 

* * *

 

Adam could hear his own heartbeat. Through his toes, and fingers, rabbiting in his ribcage and pulsing in his throat. His nose itched. 

'If you asked me here because you want a formal apology,' He said, tripping over his own sentences, 'You're not getting it. I stand by what I said, every word of it.' He clenched his fists, trying now to let them shake.

Michael closed the door.

'Take a seat, Winchester.'

'The only reason I came back -'

'Winchester,' Michael said, suddenly right beside him, and Adam hated that he did it, but he flinched. 'Sit down. I'm not asking you for an apology. There's a chair right there, in case you've forgotten what one looks like in your absence.'

Adam slid into the chair, heart thumping. His knees were weak.

'I have reviewed what I said to you, yesterday.' Michael went to his desk, began shuffling paperwork. One could almost say he was trying to avoid looking directly at Adam. That was fine, because Adam was doing the very same thing, being very invested in his dress shoes. Was that a scuff mark, hadn't he polished enough? 'And I've realised that I was very unprofessional, and possibly...rude. So here is my apology. I'm sorry about speaking so about your family, and prompting you into physical violence.'

'I think I'm going to throw up.'

Michael looked up in alarm. Adam felt very, very strange. The owner of one of the most successful publishing companies in the world, renowned business tycoon, and a man he'd repeatedly referred to as a dick because of how eccentrically rude he was to his staff, was apologising to him. Maybe the cheeseburger hadn't been such a good idea, after all.

'Winchester -'

'You don't have to - I hit you,' Adam said, emotion overriding all sense of control. 'You were being a - you prompted it, yeah, but I hit you. That was wrong of me. You don't have to apologise for anything. I shouldn't have -' Fuck, why was it so hard to form a complete sentence right then? Adam became aware he was seeing stars. He swallowed, but that just made the knot in his throat rise up more.

'Oh,' Michael said.

It was very soft. Adam almost missed it behind the roaring of his blood in his ears. He chanced another glance upwards, and Michael was standing, now, hands gripping each side of his desk so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

'You're having a panic attack. Don't...don't do that. I'm not good with -'

'I'm not,' Adam said. 'Panicking.'

'Well, normally I'd be inclined to agree, but your face is the colour of a manuscript - save for the edits in red and whatnot - and you're breathing rather abnormally.' Michael seemed to be having more difficulty with how things were than Adam was. He looked almost more panicked. Adam's heart rate slowed.

'I'm not having a panic attack.'

'Well, thank God.'

Michael Shurley sank back into his chair, almost - but Adam couldn't quite allow himself to believe - in relief.

'You look like you're panicking.'

'I don't.' Michael passed a hand over his eyes. He looked a lot older, and Adam felt a twinge of...something. He had the sudden urge to wrap his arms around the man. 'Panic, I mean. Don't have the luxury. But I digress. Your work is on your desk, and, just to warn you, Sherringford moved into it temporarily so it might be a little cluttered.'

And the illusion was broken.

'Do you mean Shienfeld? I don't think a Sherringford has worked here since Tom left.'

Michael gave him one of those looks reserved for people who asked the stupid or rhetorical - not to say, really, that the two were mutually exclusive.

'If that's the Jew, yes.'

Silence. Then Adam decided he'd overstayed his welcome in the painfully neat office, and tried not to slam the door on the way out.

'It's good to be back,' He muttered under his breath as he stalked back off to his miserable little workspace, and Aaron Shienfeld almost knocked over his half eaten box of cereal sitting on where Adam's neat little pile of manuscripts had been when he saw him.

 

* * *

 

'Texting on the job?'

Sam nearly dropped his phone. He glowered at Nick, standing over his shoulder in a way that might've been menacing if it hadn't been for the fact that it was one of the only times Nick could actually stand  _over_ him at all.

'It's a free period for me till twelve,' Sam replied, wiping his hands on his pants and studying how the light reflected in Nick's steady grey-blue eyes. 'I have about two hours to text.'

'Grab a coffee with me, then. Cafeteria. My tab.'

'We always get coffee.'

He said it before he could think about it. The necessary connotations, really. 

Of course Nick saw it as a challenge.

That was how they ended up in Nick's beaten up, aggressively cherry red car, speeding down the length of the street. Sam's fingers tightened on his belt as Nick streaked into an empty lot outside what looked like a diner Dean would love. He was seeing parallels already. Ugh.

'We really shouldn't be out here,' Sam said, after he'd regained the wind in his lungs. 'And you really shouldn't have been speeding like that.'

Nick winked at him, and slid out the side of his car.

'A milkshake for two,' The devil said at the counter, attempting to put an arm around Sam, who spluttered something unattractive and reeled away, face as red as Nick's car. 'That's two straws, just to be clear. He's shy, don't mind him.'

'Nick -'

'Want a cheeseburger? Anything, darlin'?' Nick turned, the most innocent expression on his face, almost an "I dare you", and Sam would be damned if he'd let this challenge slide by like that. 'I'll take the curly fries.'

'I think I'm good.'

The teenage girl at the counter just burst her bubble of gum and kept chewing. It was purple, the kind of shiny velvety purple you found in balloons, rubber gloves or that one kid from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

'So to review, a milkshake with two straws and curly fries.'

She rang up the purchase and ripped the receipt off the machine so fast and hard Sam had to blink to register it.

'That would be correct.'

'One milkshake,' A spotty kid as equally enthused said, and Sam watched her green eyes roll back so far he worried she was having a stroke.

'Hm. Thank you for coming.' The girl grabbed the newly made milkshake from the guy in the kitchen, almost thumped it down onto a plate with two wrapped straws and a box of steaming curlies.

'Were you ever that grumpy as a kid?' Nick asked, as they were walking shoulder to shoulder - still keeping up with the charade - to a vacant table. 'Bet you were, you're still hella fuckin' grumpy now.'

'It's a phase thing.'

Sam sure goddamned hoped it was.

'...and I'm not grumpy.'

'Sure, honey bunch.'

Nick grinned, shoving a handful of curly fries into his mouth. Sam snuck some. They were good. They scalded the tip of his tongue, but they were good.

'Again, we really should not be out here.'

'Aw, you ain't gonna get in trouble. You're new, they'll take it out on the troublemaker. Or the scapegoat, but that depends on who's telling the story.' He winked. Somehow even with a mouthful of curly fries, one comically dangling out the side like an overgrown, crispy brown incisor, the man could manage to be enticing.

Sam swallowed, and managed a watery smile. 'You get that a lot? Being blamed?'

'Oh, hell, Sammy, you have fancy hair and a really precious face, but you're not the sharpest tool in the shed.' Nick's smile, if that's what it was at all, was sharp and brittle, like a thin sheet of ice over a body of water. Sam sensed it wasn't a topic for light milkshake conversations: he didn't want to fall in. 'Let's not dwell on borin' old me, now. How's Chicken?'

'If you mean Adam, he probably wants you to stop calling him that.'

'All of you have sticks up your ass, you Winchesters.'

'That's not true,' Sam said, before he could help it. And it wasn't. Not for Dean. Not for John, even, hell. 'Adam's just really...into his work. We didn't always use to get along.'

'Tell me about it.'

He said it like he meant it, not just another throwaway expression.

'I don't think he knew our dad had another family till we came along.' Sam stared into the abyss of their shared milkshake. Cream coated the sides of the straws. 'It was falling outs and um, heavy stuff. But it's better now. Dad's gone to wherever he goes, and we're family.'

'Family.' Nick seemed to chew the word, but in a way that didn't indicate any intention of swallowing, much less digesting. 'Ha. Now there's a notion.'

'He got his job back, by the way. Texted me this morning.'

_He also texted me something else._

'Oh,' Nick said, as if it'd reminded him of something, 'My good ol' brother's his boss. Which means your ohana is getting intricately - ah, what's the word -  _tangled_ with mine. Good luck, darlin'.'

'Ohana, huh?'

'C'mon. Live a little.'

Sam found a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 'You know, my girlfriend used to say that.'

'Is that why she ain't here, sharing a milkshake with her darlin'?'

'We broke up.' It still hurt to say. Like stepping on broken glass. Nick's eyes were emotionless, boring holes into where his line of vision met Sam's. 'Sometime ago, actually. But yeah. Never saw the point in that saying.'

'You that eager to get back to school, sugar?'

Sam smiled.

'You gonna let me get back?'

Nick eyed him, then used his index finger to shove the milkshake closer to the opposite side of the table. 'Finish up, sweetheart. Waiting in my baby for you.'

Sam decided not to tell him that his baby had a penis scratched into the passenger door. Assuming, of course, he hadn't done it himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been super super long and i hate to make excuses but here are a few:  
> \- a new school year!!!im so psyched and i love all my classes and most of my teachers.  
> \- admin work for my clubs  
> \- general affair work for a uniform organisation  
> \- me being a terrible lazy horrible fic writer who should stop procrastinating and coming up with excuses and lists of excuses  
> \- hamilton  
> but i haven't forgotten about this fic and i will!!! probably see it through whoop i have a rough outline going on here so i can only hope i can steer it through as smoothly as possible. thank you for reading, i'll see you the next time i update (read: several years later)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
